Dead Lovers and Other Sweet Things
by Diablo Priest
Summary: Going in a different direction. Needy is released after spending four years in the mental institution for killing Jennifer. She tries to rebuild her life and enrolls in university. More graphic than my previous work.
1. Chapter 1

Needy and company created by Diablo Cody, who, by the way, is a genius—a freaky genius! The rest of this story is mine, and I am thankful that she lets us play around with her creations. Everything is fictitious.

Note: I've changed the name of Needy's friend. It will be Xaviera \zay-vee-AIR-ah\ . Call her Xavie \zay-VEE\, that's what Needy does! Sorry for the confusion.

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

Dead Lovers and Other Sweet Things

by Diablo Priest

Preface: I love Jennifer and Needy, but sometimes they take me to dark places—actually, I don't need anyone to take me there, but it's nice to be in such beautiful company. Sensitive souls be warned: this is one of those dark places. It was inspired by my hero Osamu Dazai.

_Those who suffer shall suffer. Those who fall shall fall. —Osamu Dazai, "One Hundred Views of Mount Fuji."_

[Needy is released after spending four years in the mental institution for killing Jennifer. She tries to rebuild her life and enrolls in university.]

pt.1 §§§

The Lord Byron Society was the poetical club on campus. It met every Thursday evening while classes were in session and published a journal every semester. Needy thought this would be an ideal activity for her. Before the first meeting, she stopped at the college bookstore for some of her text books, but the crowd was larger than she expected. After waiting in line to pay, she rushed across the quad already late. Warriner Hall was a large neoclassical building with many columns, constructed in the late nineteenth century. It resembled a Greek temple. The meeting was in a small lecture amphitheater, room 1788.

No longer did Needy have the long flowing locks of silky blonde hair that she had when she was seventeen. Her hair was cut short in a prissy style that was the antithesis of youth and femininity. She looked twenty-seven rather than her twenty-one years, but the energy, bustle, and excitement of the first days of a new school year filled her with enthusiasm and confidence. She was ready to play the bright little preppie in her new green sweat shirt with the big white "T" logo—for Teasdale University—across her chest and with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her élan dissolved, however, before she even entered the room.

Needy froze in the doorway. Every LBS meeting began with poetry readings, and a Goth girl was at the podium reading some free verse:

I scream

I scream

Death

Darkness surrounds me

Death

Liberation

Death

Darkness frees me

Hopeless

Hopeless

Hopeless.

The girl would have been a breathing cliché, except she expressed genuine emotion in her enunciation and authentic energy in her gestures. Needy was mesmerized by the her. She looked like Jennifer: her childhood friend, her adolescent lover, her personal demon. Of course she was dressed nothing like Jennifer; the Goth girl's clothes weren't colorful, tight, or seductive in any way; they were black, loose, and enveloping. She had a small silver ring in her right nostril, and a labret or stud just below the middle of her lower lip; and she also had a metal choker or collar that Jennifer would never have even looked at—a chain of skulls and crossbones. However, she did have Jennifer's long black hair and piercing blue eyes; although her hair was heavily moussed. The resemblance went beyond the color of her hair and eyes. Her nose, lips, and jaw suggested the dead Devil's Kettle beauty as well.

The girl glared back at Needy, as polite applause rippled through the room in response to her poem. As the applause died away, Needy was still frozen in place; and the Goth girl continued to stare. The entire assemblage then turned and looked at Needy. No one moved.

Finally an older man stood up.

"Welcome newcomer," he said, advancing with his hand extended. "I'm John—Dr. Hunter—I'm faculty advisor for the LBS. Good evening."

"I'm Anita," Needy said, as if in a dream.

"Come in, come in!" Dr. Hunter said. "Xaviera won't bite you, will you Xaviera?"

The Goth girl was still at the podium, gazing intently at Needy. "I might," she said.

Dr. Hunter smiled nervously. "Xaviera is one of our avant-garde poets."

Needy entered the room and sat down. There were more readings, once Xaviera surrendered the podium. The readings were followed by refreshments and socializing. Needy kept staring at the Goth girl. Finally, she came over.

"Would you _like_ me to bite you?"

"Uh?"

"You keep staring at me."

"Oh."

"I thought you might be trying to pick me up."

"Uh?"

The Goth girl leaned in closer and whispered emphatically, "Have sex with me. I thought you might be trying to have sex with me."

Needy blushed. It was amazing that after all she had been through, she could still blush. Red. Like a revolutionary's zeal.

The Goth girl smiled seductively. "I would tear you apart, babe."

"Oh."

"You don't like it rough?"

"I—uh—I—"

"We could get to know one another first," Xaviera said. "You could tie me up."

"You come on strong," Needy said finally, gaining her mental equilibrium.

"You were the one staring at me, babe."

"You look like someone I used to know."

"Someone dead, I bet."

"Yeah," Needy said, befuddled again. How did she know, Needy thought.

"Someone young and beautiful."

"Yeah."

"I could be your dead lover," Xaviera said, "and other sweet things."

"That could be dangerous," Needy said with a quiver in her voice.

"Exactly what you're looking for."

Needy was silent.

"I'm going to Demon's," Xaviera said. "Come with me."

Needy looked apprehensive.

"It's a club. C'mon."

"All right."


	2. Chapter 2

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 2 §§§

A sign outside proclaimed, "Black Death Corpses, 9/13." The club was very dark. Nearly everyone was dressed in black, and the convulsing crowd generated heat and a musky odor. The music was loud and fast—it beat on Needy's chest like a three-pound maul. The guitars roared in her ears like grinders on steel, and the scintillating metal jewelry from all the piercings even seemed like sparks. The band was composed of five skinny guys, who were pierced and tattoo like their audience and who reveled in death imagery and sex. They played songs like "Cemetery Slut," "Cannibal Orgy," and "Black Mass Priestess."

Needy had not experienced anything like it in the four years she spent confined in the Leech Lake Women's Correctional Hospital. She was inhibited, intimidated, and even cowed by savage music and throbbing mob. Also before her incarceration, she was hardly known for wild escapades; and living in Devil's Kettle was much like a prison or monastery for young people: there was only McCullum Park, the rundown theater, and the neglected youth center. After beer, the recreational drug of choice was meth, but only the hopeless—the kids who could never dream of college and escape from the town—embraced that demon. Once Needy went to a similar club in Duluth with Colin Gray and the "dead girls." That was not much fun either—the dead girls were sour bitches, and Colin was a sweet boy, but much too serious and shy.

Xaviera had no patience for Needy's morosity. She grabbed the petite blonde by the wrist and pulled her along to the powder room. They stopped at the painted-up window.

"I've got something for your mood," Xaviera said; and from the pouch hooked to her black military-style belt, she pulled a small bottle and a used compact with a mirror that contained a razor blade and a short straw. "This'll loosen you up," she continued, opening the bottle and taking out two round yellow tablets.

Silently Needy watched as Xaviera shaved off the coating of the pills, chopped them into dust, and lined the powder up in two strips on the mirror of the compact. The dark girl then offered the straw to Needy. She hesitated, but Xaviera was decisive. With one hand, the Goth girl seized Needy's face by the jaw; and with the other, she pinched some of the powder and forced it up Needy's nostril.

"Snort it!"

Needy obeyed. Her eyes watered and she grimaced.

"Good," Xaviera said, releasing Needy and offering the straw again. "Now the rest."

When Needy was finished inhaling her line of powder, Xaviera snorted the other line. The two young women then returned to the dance floor, where what took place wasn't really dancing. It was moshing. For an hour, they were kinetic. The people on the dance floor bumped into one another, sometimes violently, to the beat of the music. In this way, Needy began to discover Xaviera's body and the Goth girl began to assert her authority over Needy's body. It became obvious to Needy that Xaviera didn't like other people bumping into her, especially if the other person tried to establish a pattern—Xaviera would bump them out of the way. Xaviera groped Needy aggressively, pawing her breasts, buttocks, and crotch. It turned Needy on, and she began to reciprocate. The firm, round posterior of the Goth girl attracted Needy's erotic feelings.

During a break from moshing, the girls were sitting at their table with drinks, when Xaviera put her lips to Needy's ear:

"You like my ass, don't you?"

Needy nodded.

"Later will you put your finger in it? I like it when my girls do that."

Needy nodded again.

When Needy left Demon's with ears ringing, she felt as if she were walking on Jello. She staggered along with Xaviera up College Avenue. The cool night air only partially revived her; it dispelled the effects of the heat and noise, but the booze and drugs still fogged her senses. They went to the dark girl's dorm, where she shared a suite—three bedrooms and a lounge—with two other girls. One of her roommates, a pretty brunette with short hair, was passed out on the couch in the lounge. The volume of the TV was set high, and the channel was on MTV.

"That's Tiffany," Xaviera said. "She's terminally cute."

Needy followed Xaviera to her room and sat right down on the bed, as she felt wobbly on her feet. The narrow room, with a door, a window, and two solid walls, was rather plain—spartan really. The only decoration to personalize the space consisted of two prints from de Sade books: Justine or Juliette nude and being whipped by monks, which hung on one wall; and on the other, a sepia photo of the chandelier in the Sedlec Ossuary.

Xaviera stood over Needy, lifted her face and kissed her, a mechanical kiss with no particular emotion.

Needy didn't know how to respond to the odd kiss. She was coming down from her high and was lethargic.

Suddenly, Xaviera grabbed a handful of blonde hair, jerked Needy's head back; then she kissed Needy—ravished her delicate mouth.

When the dark girl was finished kissing Needy, she released her. She stepped back and peeled off her clothes. Needy had never seen a body like it naked before. Xaviera had tattoos and metal on her body. Coiled around her right upper arm was an intricate serpent tattoo, well done with sharp lines. She had a small heart tattoo on her left breast—the lines of this weren't very sharp, and it had the appearance of being a homemade tattoo. On her left buttock, there was a professionally executed skull-and-crossbones tattoo, two inches in diameter. Another amateur tattoo was inked just above Xaviera's pubic triangle and slightly to the right—it was the astronomical sign for Saturn [Ђ]. Each of her nipples had a silver ring through it, and a fine silver chain hung between the rings. Also a silver ring hung from one of her labia. There were scars all up and down her forearms. Many, many scars. Needy looked at them—looked at them for too long. She looked up at Xaviera, who returned the gaze without emotion; and then she turned the light off. This girl was dangerous.

Xaviera kissed, bit, and rubbed Needy all over her body. You could not call the hand contact caresses: they were not. There was no tenderness in Xaviera's touch. Needy, however, submitted. It had been over four years since anyone had touched her naked flesh; she was like a starving person ready to eat any unappetizing morsel to keep herself alive. For this carnal manna, Needy paid with the finger she had promised and with kisses. She hadn't kissed anyone since…since the night Jennifer surprised her in her bed—the night reality reached extinction.

Xaviera lay with her head in the opposite direct from Needy's, and, with her legs open, Xaviera slid her pelvis forward until her genitals locked with Needy's. Clutching Needy's right leg, Xaviera began to shimmy.

"C'mon, babe!" Xaviera said very much like an order. "Grind!"

Needy began to work her pelvis.

"Harder!" Xaviera commanded, slapping Needy's thigh. "Harder!"

The girls established an athletic rhythm—syncopating their thrusts and grinds. Xaviera would push her pelvis against Needy's crotch, while Needy would grind into the thrust; then Needy would press against Xaviera's groin, while Xaviera rotated into the counter thrust.

Xaviera's orgasms were not what Needy expected. There was no screaming and thrashing around. No violence. The dark beauty threw her head back, curled her bottom lip, bit down, and whined sort of like a puppy. Needy found it endearing. After three times, Xaviera disentangled herself from Needy's legs and sat up. Her face was sweaty and flushed, and her hair was a tangled mass.

"You didn't come, babe?"

This girl was unnerving. How did she know, Needy thought.

"That's a crime," Xaviera declared. "I don't know what they did to you, but you are damaged—_Titanic_ damaged." She threw her long hair back. "I don't normally do this on a first date, but I like you, babe."

She held Needy's hips firmly and plunged her face between Needy's thighs.

Needy closed her eyes as the energy began to radiate from her groin. She could feel her muscles coiling, tightening for a powerful release. Her toes curled. She clutched the mattress and grit her teeth. Xaviera's mouth kept gnawing, her tongue probing ever deeper. Suddenly terror griped Needy. Her eyes opened wide. She tried to pull away from Xaviera, but couldn't escape. The fusillade jerked Needy's body—her screams tore the air, as if she were a banshee tormented by demons. Her screams were strangled as her body twisted again. More screams followed. Needy closed her eyes again, and another spasm seized her as more energy burst from within her tiny frame. She wailed again, louder than before. Then she seemed to black out. Yes, she experienced a second of transcendence.

Xaviera sat up. A big grin spread on her face; her lips and chin glistening with Needy's juices. She looked down at Needy, whose chest was heaving rapidly for air.

"Whoa," the Goth girl said, catching her own breath. "They're going to think I killed you in here."

Needy managed to nod.

"That was more like it."

Needy nodded again.


	3. Chapter 3

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 3 §§§

Needy's collegiate social life was instantly dominated by her attraction to Xaviera, much as her life in Devil's Kettle had been dominated by Jennifer. Otherwise, Needy's semester seemed ordinary. She went to her classes; she read and worked on her assignments; she had a work-study job at the main library; and she had a position on the editorial board of the Lord Byron Society. The two girls had poetry in common, but their styles were different. Needy wrote surreal verses, Xaviera wrote from her gut.

Needy was old-fashioned. First she wrote everything in long hand; then later typed it up on her computer. Everywhere she went, she carried one of those diary or journal books to record her thoughts. Its cover was decorated with a picture of lilies. Xaviera regarded the cover as garlic—and she was the vampire. Despite their incongruities, the girls were seldom apart for very long. Every chance she could get, Needy would go to Xaviera's dorm. The sex was fervent and raw.

One evening in late September, Tiffany let Needy into the suite, and Needy let herself into Xaviera's room. The dark girl was intently focused on her computer screen. She didn't acknowledge Needy.

"What are you working on, Xavie?"

"A poem I wrote about you during my biology lecture," Xaviera said. "Actually it's about the nasty things I want to do to you." She handed Needy the paper.

Needy read it and made a face.

"You're not really going to do the last stanza, are you? Cuz if you do, I'm never kissing you again."

Xaviera laughed. "I gotta get this revised while my inspiration is hot. I think this is going to be one of my best poems—I can't wait to submit it for the _LBS Journal_."

"I don't think the LBS is going to publish any of your poems."

"Of course they will," Xaviera said. "I'm good for two just because they're all afraid of me, and Hunter doesn't know what to do with me. He's funny. He doesn't know if I'm for real or a caricature."

"Your poems don't fit the theme of the journal."

"Doesn't matter. I'm in. They owe me too. Last semester, only my name made it in three times because the feebleminded editors turned the anonymous submissions into a cluster fuck."

"They mixed up the submissions?"

"Yeah. My name was underneath a poem about butterflies!" Xaviera stood up in her complete Goth uniform. "Honestly, do I look like a girl who would write a poem about butterflies and sunshine?" And she stuck a finger into her mouth.

As the girls were talking, the screen saver of Xaviera's computer turned on. It displayed a single picture of Roman ruins that faded in and out continuously. Amidst the rubble and the brown weeds, a solitary broken column stood against the gray sky.

"That poem is awfully pornographic, don't you think?" Needy said.

"Scatological."

"Whatever."

"You see, it's metaphorical."

"About our relationship?" Needy asked.

"About the futility of love."

"Keats would be proud."

"Fuck Keats. He's been dead for two hundred years. What does he know about walking around in my skin. Besides, you didn't come here to discuss dead Romantic poets."

"No," Needy said, "I didn't. I came here to fool around before work."

"That's what I want to hear, dirty baby! I want to try out the third stanza," Xaviera said, pulling off her top.

Needy rolled her eyes.

After trying out the third stanza, Needy lay tucked under Xaviera's right arm.

"What are you going to do when you graduate?" Needy asked. "Is there a big market for scatological poetry?"

"You know very well that there's no market for any poetry. Doesn't the poet laureate work for an insurance company? I'll probably go to grad school. I can count mite shit just as well as anyone."

"What are you talking about, Xavie?"

"Believe it or not," Xaviera said, "right now across campus in some lab, a grad student is counting mite feces with a microscope. Shit is a metaphor for many things, babe. Like the man sang in the song, 'No future for you.'"

"I see what you mean."


	4. Chapter 4

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 4 §§§

Several weeks into the semester, Needy was waiting outside the student center. She was wearing a mulberry cowlneck sweater and gray jeans. It was the peak of the dinner rush. She was expecting Xaviera. Almost as soon as their relationship had begun, the two girls started to eat together just about every evening. Xaviera seemed to be the actuator of this domestic routine; as for Needy, she was only too happy to adopt the carefree habits of a college student after the monotony of the regimented schedule in the institution, but dinner with Xaviera was not onerous, and the Goth girl seemed to need the companionship. This evening, however, Xaviera was late. When her phone croaked, Needy knew that it was a text from Xaviera. Needy had no other friends.

"cant mk chow wil see you ltr X."

"'sup?" Needy typed back, but she got no reply.

Eating by herself, Needy was lonely and anxious. She had quickly grown dependent on her lover. When she had finished her meal, Needy called Xaviera, but did not get an answer. She was more nervous now. She wanted to seek Xaviera in her room, but wasn't sure if that was wise. After sending another text message and receiving no reply, Needy resolved to go to Xaviera's room. The moment she got off the elevator, Needy knew Xaviera was there. The reverberations of the metal music gave her away. As Needy approached the door, Tiffany emerged with two of her friends, Leah and Rancey. They were heading to a late dinner. The girls exchanged greetings and Tiffany let Needy into the suite.

The music switched off after Needy pounded on Xaviera's locked door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Anita," Needy said. "I mean it's Babe."

Xaviera let her inside.

"You missed dinner, Xavie," Needy said.

"Yeah, uh, sorry. I'm not feeling well."

Needy saw a razor blade on the desk beside the keyboard and the residue of the yellow coating that had been swept off the top. Needy had been suspicious about what they had snorted at Demon's, and she had applied her nerdish abilities to some research. Now, Needy was certain—they had snorted OxyContin; and Xaviera was addicted. When Needy had knocked, Xaviera quickly put the pills that she had been shaving away, but accidently left the razor blade out.

The gaze of Needy's big blue eyes was enough to expose the Goth girl's equivocation.

"Actually, I needed to get some pills."

Needy closed the distance between them.

"Oh, Xavie," she sighed. "Oh, Xavie."

"We all have our demons, babe."

Needy put her chin on Xaviera's shoulder.

"Yes," she whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

[Note: the stats seem low for this, but I'm pushing ahead anyway. I hope I don't get too sloppy.]

pt. 5 §§§

"You said when we met that you would be my dead lover."

"Yes," Xaviera said. "I did say that." And seeing that Needy had a catalog in her hand, continued, "Let's see what you have in mind."

Needy opened the catalog. "Jennifer wore stuff like this."

Xaviera looked at the flirty clothes on the models. "Well, do you have a credit card? Cuz I have nothing like that in my wardrobe, babe."

"I do," said Needy.

"Then let's go shopping!"

They bought some clothes that fit Jennifer's style, shampooed and fixed Xaviera's hair to match the long flowing tresses of Jennifer, and did the Snow White makeup too. When they were done, Needy's new lover looked like a clone of the dead one.

Just dressing up Xaviera as Jennifer made Needy excited, fearful, and aroused. She was literally quite feverish as they were making out. Xaviera even remarked on Needy's avidness. And if there were a moment that Needy fell in love with Xaviera, it was when the raven-haired girl said:

"If you want to hurt Jennifer, I would get off on that."

"Okay," Needy said, getting off the bed and quickly stripping. "Come here."

Xaviera stood up and faced the blonde urchin.

Needy slapped her in the face.

"Shit," Xaviera muttered. "That hurt."

"I told you this would be dangerous when we met."

"You did, babe. One rule: no fists."

"Agreed."

Xaviera took a deep breath.

Needy smacked her in the face again.

"Get on your knees!" Needy ordered.

Xaviera was a good actress. She didn't obey immediately.

Needy cuffed her face again.

"Do what I say, bitch!"

Xaviera complied.

Needy grabbed a handful of Jennifer hair and shoved Xaviera's face into her crotch.

It was dangerous...

When the sex was finished, Xaviera was bleeding from her mouth. Not profusely, but blood was all over her face, and her lip was swollen. She was duly impressed by Needy's performance.

"Babe, you must really hate Jennifer."

Needy, sitting on the edge of the bed and catching her breath, said reflectively:

"No, I really hate myself;" and then she began to cry. "I really love Jennifer."

Xaviera got up from her reclining position and disentangled herself from the ropes Needy had used to bind her. She sat beside Needy, and hugged her while she wept.

"It's all right, babe," Xaviera said. "It was just a little role playing, that's all."

"But...Jennifer...Jennifer," Needy sobbed.

"You can't hurt Jennifer, and she can't hurt you. It was pretend."

Needy kept sobbing, and she reached out to touch Xaviera's face, but stopped as if afraid to hurt her. "What have I done?...You're...you're bleeding."

With a finger, Xaviera wiped some blood off her chin and smeared it on her tongue.

"I like it rough," she said, and swallowed. "I came when you were spanking me with your sneaker—it was a hyperorgasm, babe. Don't cry because you satisfied me."

Needy just shook her head and continued to weep.

"I don't think we should play this game again, Xavie," she said when she was finished crying.

"I like it," Xaviera said. "But whatever you want, babe."


	6. Chapter 6

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 6 §§§

Alone in her own dorm room, Needy slept restlessly that night. She dreamt that she was searching for Jennifer in a vast building, which apparently was her subconscious reconstruction of Devil's Kettle High School—only mythically large.

In the first classroom, two little girls were playing in a sandbox. One girl was dark haired and the other was blonde. Needy could see the girls through the small window in the door, but the door was locked, and Needy could not enter. She knocked on the door, but the girls just kept playing; therefore, Needy continued down the hall.

Camille, Chip's chubby little sister, was in the next room.

"Go away!" Camille shouted at Needy. "You're a cunt muscle."

Needy closed the door and hurried away from the loud-mouthed brat.

Next Needy came to an open door and looked inside the room. Roman was sitting at a student's desk. There was no one else in the room. He was dressed in his police uniform. His nightstick was laying on the desk.

"Roman, where's Jennifer?"

He turned to Needy.

"Jennifer?"

"Yes, Jennifer my biff."

"Mmm, Jennifer," Roman repeated, thinking hard on the name. "Jennifer."

"Yes, Jennifer, the girl you fucked in the ass, don't you remember?"

Roman stood up, thrust out his chin like a fascist, and said, "That's a lie. I never touched that bitch. Never!"

"Where is she?"

"You won't see her now," Roman said, picking up his nightstick and then marching out of the room and down the hallway.

Needy's dream continued. In the next classroom, she found the boys were seated at the desks: Craig, Ahmet, Jonas, Colin, and Chip. Mr. Wroblewski was standing at the blackboard. A crude drawing of a nude woman was on it, and the teacher's mechanical hand was pointing to the figure's oversized pudendum. Before Needy could say anything, Colin jumped up and pointed to her:

"She killed Jennifer!"

"Yeah!" Jonas seconded the motion.

Needy turned her eyes to Chip for support, but found herself looking at the face of Nikolai, the lead singer of Low Shoulder. The dreamscape had shifted. Nikolai was grinning flippantly over his shoulder at Needy while he was fucking Chastity, who was atop a small desk and clinging to it precariously. Dirk, Mick, Chas, and the keyboard player were lined up behind their leader, waiting their turn at their number one fan. And the emo guys were singing "My Sharona," by The Knack.

Fleeing down the hall, Needy heard crying. The weeping led her to another room, where she found her own mother sobbing and clutching a Barbie doll. Needy's mother looked at her daughter.

"You killed this beautiful child," she said. "Why? Why did you kill Jennifer? She was so beautiful."

Needy woke up.


	7. Chapter 7

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 7 §§§

"I didn't expect to see you, babe," Xaviera said, opening her door for Needy. "It's getting late."

"I just finished my shift at the library," Needy said. "I couldn't stop thinking about you the whole time. I want sex."

Needy never thought of their amorous activities as "making love," for Xaviera was always rough—not necessarily brutal—but rough, or she was coldly mechanical about the acts. She was not neglectful of Needy—she was always sure the blonde girl came and would work at it diligently. Regardless, it was not making love in Needy's mind. She and Xaviera had sex.

"Wow," Xaviera said, "it's a good thing I'm not a delicate flower, or I'd be shocked by your bluntness."

"Yeah."

"I like it, babe," Xaviera said, and then kissed Needy. A deep, passionate kiss; but as she pulled away, she bit Needy's bottom lip. "Get naked—I'll give you what you want."

Needy pulled off her clothes and lay on the bed.

Xaviera didn't take off her clothes. "Now play with yourself," she told Needy.

"Uh?"

"You heard me—play with yourself."

Needy glanced down her torso, slender and pale.

"No, no!" Xaviera said sharply. "Look at me and play with yourself."

This foreplay was new to Needy. She began by caressing her groin; and then, with Xaviera watching, she slowly sank a finger inside and started to work it around.

"You weren't thinking about me all evening," Xaviera announced suddenly, "you were thinking about Jennifer."

Needy stopped fingering herself and pulled out.

"You offered to be her surrogate," Needy said. "I thought you were okay with that."

"I'm good at receiving your projected emotions because I'm empty."

Needy put a hand over her crotch and draped an arm over her breasts.

"I'm not a ghost," Xaviera said.

"But I am," Needy said. "I died four years ago. I only feel alive when you make me come, Xavie."

"Yeah, you're pretty sick for wanting to fuck a girl who looks like your dead biff; but I'm sicker for wanting to be your dead biff. Go on, back to it. Play with your snatch. I want it dripping."

"Are you sure that you want me to stay?"

"Yes," Xaviera said. "When I make you come, I forget I'm empty."

Needy put her fingers back to work between her legs. For a while Xaviera watched; then she sat on the bed, but not too close to Needy. One hand Xaviera put down her pants to fiddle with her own privates. With the other hand, Xaviera began to knead the blonde's breasts and pinch her nipples, gently at first, but with increasing vigor. Needy's face twisted as Xaviera squeezed harder and harder. When the Goth girl had forced a wauling cry from Needy, she stood up.

Xaviera took off her clothes, crawled onto the bed, put a knee on either side of Needy's chest, bent forward, and lowered her face between Needy's thighs. Extending her tongue, Xaviera touched Needy's most sensitive spot with it, giving Needy a jolt like static electricity and causing her to moan involuntarily. Xaviera then lowered her crotch onto Needy's face, while burrowing her own face deep into Needy's genitals. Periodically, Xaviera would order Needy to slap her haunches; and occasionally Xaviera would reach back with her right hand, and then smack and paw her own groin. As she neared her climax, she cried out:

"Now, babe!"

Needy knew what that meant, and she popped a finger into her partner's dark hole. Xaviera pumped her pelvis gently in response. Within a few moments, Xaviera was whimpering like a hungry puppy.

However, Xaviera couldn't relax. Needy always took longer to come. The Goth girl switched her position. Spreading Needy's legs widely apart, Xaviera crouched between them, and smiled down at her blonde partner. Then she clamped her mouth to Needy's orifice, drilling her tongue deep inside. Needy's body quivered dramatically, and she moaned. When Xaviera saw a red rash spreading out in the middle of Needy's chest just below her collar bone, she knew the elfin blonde was truly stimulated.

Needy was a screamer. When she began to squirm and squeal, Xaviera knew she had satisfied her.

When they had recuperated, Xaviera got up, opened the little refrigerator, and took out two beers.

"Aren't you afraid of getting caught with those?" Needy asked.

Xaviera laughed. "Yeah, and the OxyContin in my pouch. Really, babe, if you knew what I've been through, you'd know I do not fear a bunch of moronic bureaucrats and their fascist rules." Then she handed Needy a beer. "You must be thirsty."

"Thanks."

"Nice necklace by the way—did Jennifer give you that?"

"This?" Needy said, fingering the ankh hanging from a beaded chain around her neck. "My mother sent it to me. Jennifer would never touch cheap costume jewelry like this. She was all about chic."

"She was a bourgeois bitch."

Needy smiled sadly.

"I don't really like it," Xaviera said, and then took a swig of beer.

"Well, everyone calls you the 'Grim Reaper's bride' for a reason."

"Fuck 'em," Xaviera spit. "They're all lemmings and posers; and they can't think for themselves."

"And all this Goth paraphernalia is original?"

"It's genuine," Xaviera said. "Like you, I'm haunted by death."


	8. Chapter 8

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 8 §§§

After a bout of sex, Xaviera sat up in bed to catch her breath. Needy lay for a few more moments; then she sat up too and leaned into Xaviera. The Goth girl pushed the elfin blonde away, but gently. Xaviera disliked cuddling and pillow talk, and was perpetually annoyed at Needy's need for them. Xaviera had no problems giving Needy orgasms. Lips, tongue, fingers—whatever was necessary, Xaviera would use it to pleasure her partner; but affection was not something she gave. As though she were a puppy seeking affection from a neglectful master, Needy tried again: she shifted her position closer to Xaviera, and this time began to brush the hair from the Goth girl's face. Despite the mousse, Xaviera's hair was always a mess after sex. Needy expected to be pushed away, but when it didn't happen she picked up the comb from the night stand and began to comb Xaviera's long hair. It was a rare episode of tenderness.

After combing Xaviera's hair, Needy began to braid it. The girls were sitting on the bed, a chaotic nest of clothing, blankets, sheets, and pillows, while Needy's fingers worked. The little room was warm, it was raining outside, and Needy was content to listen to the rain and braid her partner's hair. When she was finished with the first braid and began the second one, Xaviera said to her:

"My sister used to braid my hair. No one has done it since." The tone of her voice was very somber.

Needy dropped the strands of hair that she was working with.

"Should I ask?"

"I'll tell you anyway."

"Okay."

"I come from a poor, rural family—white trash, some would call it. There were problems: alcohol and drugs—the modern American cliché. My parents drank and my sister—she was older—did drugs. Dad was violent—he was a zero, and violence was his only significant attribute. By fifteen, my sister had enough and ran away. She ended up staying with these people in the sticks. They ran a meth lab on an old farm, and a gang did a home invasion. They tied everyone up and ransacked the place for the money and drugs. They shot everybody—"executed" the news reports all said. But doesn't that implied legal sanction? My sister: they raped her first—three or four times they raped her. Then they set the old farm house on fire."

The little dorm room was silent. Xaviera took a deep breath. "They burnt..." she paused.

Needy thought the dark girl would breakdown, but she merely glanced at the floor; then gazed out the black window into the rainy night.

"They burnt my sister up," she said softly, almost like a thought. "I couldn't even say goodbye. It was a closed coffin at the wake. She was so pretty, and they turned her into a burnt piece of shit."

Xaviera touched the braid of hair hanging by her left ear.

Needy was silent. What could she say about a nightmare like that? and there was more.

"The pain was too much," Xaviera continued. "So our little family went to pieces: mom blamed dad, dad blamed mom; both blamed me. Dad beat me. I ended up in foster care. The Neo-Cons are right—government can't do anything right: my first foster father—and I use 'father' loosely—raped me one night when I was thirteen and a few more times thereafter just to make sure my life was thoroughly fucked up. And he threatened to kill me if I told anybody. They put me into a better place when they found out, but I spent my teen years cutting myself whenever I felt like shit, which was always."

Throughout Xaviera's story, Needy felt her heart twist tightly and her throat constrict. How could she ever love Xaviera when the dark girl's heart was possessed by the demon of pain that had emptied it of everything important—her parents, her sister, her self-worth? How could Xaviera ever truly love her?

"I don't know what to say, Xavie," Needy said softly.

"There's nothing you can say. Everything's been said, everything's been done. I've been in therapy, I've been on antidepressants. Nothing changes. Sometimes I can't get my sister's agony out of my mind. The pain is always there like a virus; and when it festers up, I see my sister bound in the cellar with the others. I see him go to each one, lower his gun and shoot. And finally when he gets to my sister, he doesn't shoot—he tears her clothes off, and…and then the others do it too…. My sister has to endured it, knowing when they're done with her that they'll…."

"No, no," Needy whispered almost to herself.

Xaviera laughed. It startled Needy like a scream.

"Now you know what makes me tick, babe. Now you. There must be a story with you and Jennifer."

"I killed her," Needy declared.

"Not for some pedestrian reason like she stole your lover?"

"Yes. She stole every boy I wanted—Chip, Colin, and Ahmet—she was a real cum-dumpster," Needy said. "And she would come to my room and torment me with the details of all her conquests. She knew I was sensitive, but she would torment me anyway. And she was so oversexed that when she couldn't find a boy, she'd fuck me. I let her do it because I wanted her desperately. I had always idolized her—she was so beautiful—but she treated me like her pet—like her lap dog. She had power—sexual power—real power. She could get anything she wanted with her sex appeal. And she was evil, and I killed her because she was possessed by a demon—or I believed she was possessed by a demon."

"Oh, I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, babe," Xaviera chortled. "That's Chernobyl damage—complete meltdown of reality! Drugs?"

"No."

"Wow—organic insanity, too! We make a great couple: New American Gothic! Am I crazy or what? Cuz I want to fuck you again right now, babe. I'm gonna put on some Chicks on Speed and fuck you again!"

"You learned this seduction from Sinatra, didn't you?" Needy laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 9 §§§

It was another role-playing sex game. Needy was a bad girl; and after spanking her, Xaviera was on top, breathing hard, pumping her pelvis against Needy's thigh, and worrying Needy's breasts. She was in an exceptionally aggressive mood and would release Needy's breasts to slap her in the face. The blow was so hard one time, that Needy, empowered by anger, threw the Goth girl off and jumped up from the bed.

"Damn it, Xavie!" she exclaimed. "Did you punch me in the face?"

"What the fuck, babe! I was gettin' ready to come," Xaviera said. "It wasn't that hard."

"That was against the rules and really hurt!"

"Oh, you'll survive," Xaviera said, reaching out for Needy.

"Don't touch me! You gave me a bloody nose."

"Oh, you're too sensitive."

"You're a psycho bitch!"

"Handcuff me and get revenge. You can hurt me."

"This is serious. You are crazy! God damn crazy! I've had enough of this shit."

"You've got someone else!"

"No." But Needy's tone was strange, and she knew it after just that one syllable. There was no one else, but did she wish there were? Or was Needy still haunted by Jennifer?

Xaviera picked up on the odd tone. "There is. You're the fucking Judas bitch for cheating on me."

"I'm not cheating on you!" Needy declared. "I'm just sick of having to suffer so you can get off."

"You like it and you know it. Hey, I always make sure you come too. And that's not always easy!"

"I don't care. I've had enough," Needy said emphatically, reaching for her bra and panties. "I'm not like you."

"You can't go!" Xaviera shouted, grabbing Needy's arm.

"I'm not your slave!" Needy yelled back, shaking off Xaviera's hand. "I'll do what I want."

The dark girl was more forceful this time, seizing Needy by the shoulders and turning her around. "Listen to me!"

"No!" Needy bellowed. "Get your hands off me!" And she shoved Xaviera.

"Go to your other lover then!" Xaviera screamed, pushing Needy back.

"There is no one, I told you!"

"Is it a guy?"

"No one."

"It's that skinny anemic ho with the pale eyes and short hair, isn't it?"

"Leah? I hardly know her."

"I saw you talking to her Tuesday night when you were working in the library."

"You spy on me?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

"That's what texting is for," Needy said, shaking her head. "Go to hell. I'm outta here!"

Needy was only partially dressed, but she started for the door. Xaviera blocked her way.

"Get out of my way or—"

"—Or what?" Xaviera challenged. "Or you'll kill me?"

That was too much. Needy looked as though she had been shot. Xaviera opened her mouth, but no words would come out.

Needy limped out the door and left Xaviera naked and alone.


	10. Chapter 10

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

Pt. 10 §§§

Two days later, Tiffany called Needy.

"I don't mean to bother you, or pry into your business—I got your number from the student directory," she said, "but I know you and Xaviera had a fright, and you haven't been around; and I think you should know that Xaviera is in the hospital."

"Oh my God," Needy gasped, "what happened?"

"Well yesterday, she was playing that industrial death metal crap that she loves. All fucking day and half the fucking night, fucking nonstop—she must've had it on continuous loop. I kept pounding on her door, but she wouldn't answer. You know how weird she is—well, I thought nothing of it. But finally, I got the dorm monitor: she still wouldn't answer, so we opened her door. Oh, God. It was a mess!"

"W-what'd she do?"

"She had a straight razor, and cut herself—cut herself a lot."

Needy swallowed hard.

"I've never seen anything like it," Tiffany said, her voice trailing off as if she dreaded to speak the words. "There was blood all over—all over."

"Thanks for telling me," Needy said. "I didn't know."

After Needy hung up the phone, she put on her jacket and went directly to the nearest bus stop on Collegiate Street. At the hospital, she lied her way into the ICU.

Needy entered quietly. Xaviera was hooked to a machine that beeped occasionally; and green numbers on it flashed periodically, while lines scudded across its screen. A clear plastic hose was stuck in her nostrils, and more plastic hoses ran to the IVs inserted into the crooks of her arms. Needy sat in the chair beside the bed. Xaviera opened her eyes.

"Hey," Needy said softly.

"Hey," Xaviera said feebly. "How'd you get in?"

"I told them I was your sister."

"I'm glad that worked."

"So what happened, Xavie?" Needy asked. "Was it my fault?"

"No, it was me. You know sometimes I cut myself. Yes, we had a fight, but I wasn't angry anymore…I…I don't know…I was lost…hopeless, I guess. I was just going to cut myself twice—to bring me back." Xaviera's voice cracked. "Then I just kept doing it."

"Tiffany found you."

"Yeah, poor kid."

"It's a good thing."

"No. No, it's not. I regret it now only because I won't be with you for a while." She was tearing up.

"It won't be long, Xavie," Needy said. "The nurse said you'll be out of the ICU very soon. I'll be waiting when you get back to school. And next time when you…" she paused. "We'll do it together. I'm so tired."

Xaviera studied her lover's face carefully to confirm her meaning. Needy returned the gaze firmly, with clear eyes. Clear empty eyes. Xaviera nodded. "Together," she repeated.

"Together," Needy said again to solemnize the pact.


	11. Chapter 11

Rated: M [R] for violence, adult situations, foul language, drug use, and mature themes.

pt. 11 §§§

There would be no blood, Needy insisted. She had seen enough blood when stabbing Jennifer to death. There would be no more.

"Then it has to be pills," Xaviera said, "but they are expensive."

"How much did you pay for text books last semester? I know I forked over a Wall Street bonus to get mine."

"Oh, I see, babe. We won't need text books next semester, so that money will pay for the pills."

Needy smiled. A foxy smile.

"You are a sly one, babe," Xaviera said, proffering a tender kiss.

The arrangements were made; and one cold night, the girls went to the park.

In the park, big rocks lined the banks of the river. There was one spot where a large flat rock jutted out into the water. It could accommodate two people. Xaviera and Needy spread a blanket on it. The hour was late; the park deserted—cold and empty like a cemetery before dawn. The lights of the city sparkled and danced on the surface of the water like Christmas lights. Sporadically, a chilly breeze blew across the black water. While Needy opened the bottle of wine, Xaviera took the pills from her bag. She counted out some of the pills and gave them to Needy, who washed them down with big draughts of wine. Then Xaviera took some pills and swallowed them down with wine also. With wine still on her lips, the dark girl leaned in and kissed Needy more tenderly than ever before; then each girl took another round of pills and wine. They hugged each other and waited to die in the embrace.

Needy slumped first. Xaviera, lethargic and groggy, felt her lover become heavier and heavier, and she managed to lay her down on the rock gently. Panic seized her, however. Needy was gone, Xaviera didn't want to be left behind alone for a moment. She fumbled in her bag and found her straight razor, opened it, pulled up her sleeves, and slit each of her wrists as deeply as she could. Then she lay down partly on top of Needy. Her blood ran in a little stream and dripped into the dark water.

Shortly after sunrise, a male jogger passing the rock saw the blood in the water and, with a trembling hand, dialed 9-1-1. The fire department paramedics arrived first. Carrying their equipment, they rushed to the rock and the prostrate figures.

When the police car arrived, the paramedics had been working for eight minutes, watched over by the middle-aged jogger, with an expensive watch on his left wrist. A man with three stripes on his sleeve got out of the car, put on his hat, and slid his night stick into its holster. Quickly he walked over to one of the paramedics kneeling beside a victim.

Despite the chill of the morning, the smell of wine, blood, and vomit was strong.

"What do you have, Mike?" the police sergeant asked the paramedic.

"Looks like a double suicide attempt."

"Haven't had one of those in a while. Usually they're murder-suicide," the sergeant said. "The ambulance should be here momentarily."

"Good," the paramedic replied, standing up. "The dark one over there is gone. Cold. We couldn't do anything for her. We saved the blonde here—I think she'll make it."

"So young," the cop said, looking down at the girls.

"So young," the paramedic repeated, snapping off his light-blue latex gloves. "So hopeless."

The End.

Thanks to all for reading this far!

Thanks for the favorite listings too.

Special thanks to those who left comments! They really help keep me on target.


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